The door splintered beneath Hoshimi's heel.
Moonlight flooded the infinitely stretching hallways, the moonlight pouring in, cold and silver, illuminating a space that shouldn't have existed beneath the dorms. The ceiling arched high above, lost in shadow. The walls were raw earth, reinforced with wooden beams that looked centuries old. And at the center, standing in a circle of white orbs that pulsed with that terrible, burning light, was Sarah.
She turned.
Her amber eyes found him immediately, tracking his movement with the lazy precision of a predator who had already decided its prey wasn't a threat. Her brunette hair was perfect, untouched by the blood that still stained her hands, her clothes, her face.
"Hoshimi." Her voice carried that strange resonance, that layered quality that made it feel like someone else was speaking just behind her words. "I didn't expect you to still be standing."
"I'm a puppet, a mindless soldier, I'm supposed to fight until my very last breath."
"You can't save everyone."
"I don't plan to."
"You can't."
"I know."
Sarah's smile widened, her eyes narrowing as she stared at the sword in his hand.
Behind her, Dominic stood with his back to the far wall, his pale blue eyes fixed on Hoshimi with an expression that was almost curious. His hands were still wet, blood dripping from his fingers in slow, rhythmic drops that echoed in the silence.
"Jack." Sarah's voice was soft, almost affectionate. "What I need you to do is to beat him up until the edge of his death. I won't get involved."
Dominic pushed off from the wall.
His movement was unhurried, almost lazy, but Hoshimi saw the tension coiled beneath his skin, the way his fingers curled slightly at his sides, the way his weight shifted onto the balls of his feet.
"Puppet," Dominic said. His voice was Dominic's voice, but the cadence was wrong, the warmth drained out of it like color from old photographs. "I don't see what's so interesting about you."
Hoshimi didn't reply.
The blade in his hand felt different. Lighter. Heavier. The light that pulsed along its edge.
He could feel the sword thinking.
Not in words. In instincts. In the way his body shifted before his brain caught up, the way his feet found the right angle, his arm the right extension, his breath the right rhythm.
"I had a bad time with the Walker, Dominic keeps trying to take control." Dominic took a step forward. "But you, he doesn't care about you."
Hoshimi's grip tightened on the hilt.
"You're speaking too much."
He moved.
The distance between them vanished in the space between heartbeats. His blade came up in a diagonal arc aimed at Dominic's throat, the edge trailing light that left afterimages burned into the darkness.
Dominic's hand came up.
Not fast. Not slow. Just there, his palm flat against the flat of the blade, his fingers curling around the edge. Blood welled between his fingers, dripped down his wrist, but he didn't let go.
"Interesting," he murmured. "That sword of yours is obstructing my healing."
He shoved.
Hoshimi flew backward, his feet leaving the ground, his spine hitting the far wall with a force that cracked the wooden beams behind him. His vision went white at the edges. His lungs emptied.
He hit the ground on his knees, gasping, the sword still in his hand, his knuckles white around the hilt.
"Pathetic." Dominic crossed the space between them in three unhurried strides. His hand closed around Hoshimi's throat, lifting him off his knees, slamming him back against the wall. "You have a weapon that could reshape the world, and you swing it like a child playing with a stick."
Hoshimi's free hand came up. Mana gathered at his palm, condensed, focused, and released in a burst of violet light aimed at Dominic's face.
Dominic didn't flinch.
The mana blast struck him in the cheek, tearing flesh, exposing bone, but he didn't release his grip. His other hand came up, fingers curling around Hoshimi's wrist, and squeezed.
Bones cracked.
Hoshimi's vision went red. He felt the radius and ulna give way beneath Dominic's grip, felt the sharp, bright pain of splintering bone, felt his fingers go numb around the sword's hilt.
"Vitae Core."
The healing was agonizingly slow. The bones knitted together at a fraction of their normal speed, the mana in his body struggling against whatever was suppressing it.
"Your regeneration," Dominic observed, his pale blue eyes fixed on Hoshimi's face, "is weaker than it should be. The sword is consuming your mana. Feeding on it. You're burning through your reserves faster than you can replenish."
Hoshimi's blade came up.
Not in a slash. In a thrust. The point drove toward Dominic's chest, toward his heart, toward the place where his mana burned brightest.
Dominic twisted.
The blade missed.
Hoshimi's hands flashed with silver.
A bullet shot through Dominic's shoulder, punching through flesh and muscle and scraping against bone. Blood sprayed across Hoshimi's face, hot and metallic, and Dominic's grip on his throat loosened.
Just enough.
Hoshimi pulled free.
He hit the ground rolling, came up on one knee, the sword already moving into a guard position. His wrist was still healing, the bones grinding together with every movement, but he could feel the sword feeding him strength, keeping him upright, keeping him fighting.
Dominic touched his shoulder. Looked at the blood on his fingers.
"Playing dirty, I see," he said. "I guess just being touched by the sword doesn't prevent healing to other injuries as well."
He stepped forward.
Hoshimi's blade came up to meet him.
The next exchange was faster.
Dominic's first strike was a palm aimed at Hoshimi's chest, the force behind it enough to crack stone. Hoshimi's blade intercepted it, the edge biting into Dominic's palm, drawing blood, but not stopping the momentum.
His second strike was a kick aimed at Hoshimi's knee.
Hoshimi jumped.
His feet left the ground, his body twisting in midair, his blade coming around in a wide arc aimed at Dominic's neck.
Dominic caught it.
Bare-handed. His fingers closing around the edge, blood welling between them, but his grip was iron, unbreakable. He held the blade inches from his throat, his pale blue eyes fixed on Hoshimi's face.
"You're fast," he said. "Faster than you should be. The sword is enhancing your body, isn't it? Feeding you strength. But it feels unnatural to you doesn't it?"
He shoved.
Hoshimi flew backward again His feet hit the wall, pushed off, launched him back toward Dominic with the blade extended.
Dominic sidestepped.
His hand closed around Hoshimi's wrist, the one that was still healing, and squeezed. Bones cracked again. The sword slipped from Hoshimi's grip, clattering to the floor, its light dimming.
Dominic's other hand closed around Hoshimi's throat.
"Without the sword, you're nothing."
Hoshimi's hands came up. Not to fight. Not to push. His fingers found Dominic's face, his thumb pressing against Dominic's eye, his nails digging into the soft flesh.
Dominic hissed.
His grip loosened, and Hoshimi pulled free, stumbling backward, gasping, his hands already reaching for the sword on the floor.
His fingers closed around the hilt.
The warmth flooded back into him, the strength, the presence. His wrist healed in a rush of heat and light, the bones knitting together, the flesh sealing.
Dominic straightened. His eye was bleeding, a thin stream of crimson running down his cheek, but the wound was already closing.
"Be glad that you've been recognized by my lady as a threat."
He raised his hand.
The blood that covered the floor answered.
It rose in waves, a crimson tide that filled the chamber from wall to wall, surging toward Hoshimi like a living thing. He jumped, his feet finding a wooden beam, pushing off, landing on another, climbing higher as the blood rose beneath him.
The waves crashed against the walls, sending spray across the chamber, and Hoshimi felt the cold of it against his skin, the weight of it pressing against his legs, his hips, his chest.
His skin turned transparent, his organs practically disappeared, the only thing left of Hoshimi was the sound of his rapid footsteps dashing away from the waves.
Sarah watched from the edge of the chamber.
Her arms were crossed, her head tilted, her amber eyes fixed on the fight with an expression that was almost bored. The white orbs around her pulsed in slow, rhythmic beats, casting the scene in shifting patterns of light and shadow.
"That boy is a little bit more than mediocre, I guess," she murmured. "The sword is responding to him. Manifesting."
She could see it now, the way the blade's light had changed.
Excalibur.
The sword of promised victory.
The weapon that had been forged by the predecessors of even the Primordials.
Sarah's smile faded.
"I need that sword," she breathed. "But I can't take it from him. Not yet. Not while it's still waking up."
She watched Hoshimi dodge another wave of blood, watched him climb higher, watched him swing his blade at Dominic's face.
"If I push him towards the edge of death, the sword will fully manifest. And if that happens..." Her eyes narrowed.
She uncrossed her arms.
"Jack."
Dominic paused mid-strike, his hand hovering inches from Hoshimi's face. His pale blue eyes flickered to Sarah, questioning.
"Change of plans." Sarah's voice was light, almost careless. "I'm leaving. You'll stay here and deal with the boy."
Dominic's expression flickered. "My Lady-"
"Fight until you can't anymore." Sarah's smile returned, sharp and cold. "I don't care if you win or lose. I just need time. I'm going to go put Sophia in the middle of nowhere."
She turned away.
Hoshimi's blade came up, but Dominic's hand caught his wrist, holding him in place.
Sarah paused at the chamber's entrance. Looked back over her shoulder. Her amber eyes gleamed in the dim light, and her smile was radiant, terrible, beautiful.
She stepped through the doorway and vanished into the darkness beyond.